


Of Recklessness and Heaters

by Sinclaironfire



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Caring Mrs. Beakley, Caring Scrooge McDuck, EVERYTHING GOES WRONG, Emotionally Repressed Scrooge McDuck, F/M, It's Christmas at the Money Bin, Merry Christmas, Mrs. Beakley Has the Patience of a Saint, Mrs. Beakley Puts Up with Alot, Mrs. Beakley is a BAMF, Mrs. Beakley is worried, Old Married Couple, Scrooge McDuck is an Idiot, Scrooge is a good person, Scrooge is reckless, Storms, They are the Ultimate Partners, Without the Married Part, in a good way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinclaironfire/pseuds/Sinclaironfire
Summary: Scrooge is a good but stupid person, Beakley is a caring but frustrated person





	Of Recklessness and Heaters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cybra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/gifts).



> For my dear friend, Cybra. Merry Christmas!

Scrooge loved Christmas. He truly did. It was one of the best holidays in his opinion. What could be better than the world falling into a slumber like state where goodwill and cheer enthused the air? Under the falling snow, Duckburg was a winter wonderland. The weather outside was frightful but the warmth in the citizens’ heart made up for it.

The sense of the benevolence was far reaching. Mark Beaks allowed a popular app game to be played for free, providing that gamers gave positive reviews when posting about it. Glomgold, in an unlikely move of his character, gave out free signed copies of his latest autobiography “The Man Behind the Money”.

While those gifts were thoughtful, to some, at Scrooge McDuck Enterprises, many agreed that the annual employee Christmas party would be the tops.

Scrooge McDuck, while a miser in every sense of the word, was unnaturally generous during Christmas. He gave gifts like Santa Claus, he sang merrily and brightly, and his parties were the best. There never was a man who carried the spirit of Christmas like he did. Every loyal employee was atwitter for the party. All wondered what would happen this year. Past parties held something spectacular. 

There was the massive dance contest from last year, the chocolate fountain that was so big that you could swim in it, the replica bounce house of the money bin; the limits were endless. As the day of the party approached, the city was blanketed in snow.

Day of the most anticipated event at the Money Bin, the little flakes turned into a blizzard. That blizzard turned into such heavy snowfall that the it knocked out half the electricity for the city. This included the Money Bin. Every employee found themselves working in the dark. But darkness was nothing for anyone who worked in the Money Bin. Between the magical terrorism and monsters that often plagued the Money Bin, a little darkness was nothing compared to the normal sense of danger that they faced.

Candles lit every hall and office. No electricity meant no computers which meant everything was back to paper. It was an ancient way to work and it became an even greater throwback to old ways when the heating went out. Then on the single coldest day of the year, ice crept forward and froze everything in it’s path. The Money Bin became a tomb of ice. The cold crept from every corner and chilled everyone to the bone. Bundle in parkas, scarves, hats, and mittens the money Bin workers worked relentlessly but morale was low.

Sniffles and coughs could be heard from every part of the money bin, as could the small mutters of discontent towards their employer Scrooge McDuck. The fearless adventurer was currently holed up in his office, working by candlelight like everyone else while he shouted furiously into his barely functioning cell phone.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T HAVE ANYONE OUT UNTIL AFTER THE HOLIDAY?! I HAVE PEOPLE FREEZING TODAY!”

“I’m sorry Mr. McDuck but I’ve got other people with other outages. It’s first come, first serve in this case.”

“Don’t you have anyone who can come out? I’ve got 75 heaters that aren’t working!”

The man apologized once more but without a spare person to send, the conversation was over. Scrooge screamed into his hands. His people were freezing. He needed to do something. Bundling up with every bit of clothing he had, Scrooge left his office to find his two most trusted scientists: Gyro Gearloose and Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera. He passed his secretary, Gandra Dee, and gave a pitiful look as she very slowly typed away on her typewriter.

“Is the heating going to be turned on soon, sir?”

“Hopefully yes. I’ll be back momentarily.”

“Sir? Before you go, Mrs. Beakley called.”

He paused, “Aye? What did she say?”

“Nothing good, sir. She says that all the roads are closed and Launchpad can’t get the plane to take flight due to the storm. We’re snowed in.” She shivered. “I know Launchpad very well. If he can’t get to us in this weather how is anyone else? Sir, what are we going to do? It’s cold.”

“I’m working on it right now. I promise that this will be fixed right away.”

But that was easier said than done. Descending the over fifty flights of stairs to reach the lab, Scrooge found his scientists not at work but huddled around an oversized Bunsen burner.

“Hello lads!” he faked his cheer.

“M-Mr. Mc-McDuck,” they shivered and shook.

“I need your help. Can you fix the heaters?”

“Fix them?” Gyro scoffed. “What do you think we’ve been doing? There’s no fixing them Mr. McDuck. They’re too old-“

“Too worn down,” added Fenton.

“You’d be better off buying new ones.”

“That’s not an option,” Scrooge snapped. “The roads are closed. Now, lads, can you get the heat back up?”

Fenton and Gyro shared an unhappy look. “Mr. McDuck. We can’t. It’s too cold. There’s no light. We’re freezing!”

They spoke with such bitterness that Scrooge could not find it in him to request it again. He sighed. “Stay warm. I’m going to try and get the heat up and running.”

“Do you think that’s possible, Mr. McDuck?” asked Gyro.

“Do I have any other choice?”

“Sir, we’ve tried to fix them internal and that didn’t work. What you’re proposing is to go to the heaters on the outside in this weather, fix every single one and then ignite them without one going out while you’re fixing the others.”

“You don’t think that I can do it?”

“That’s not what I meant!” said Fenton, attempting to defuse the situation. “I’m just saying that for one man to do all that is impossible!”

“It’s not impossible!” he answered back with his usual bravado. “I’m Scrooge McDuck!”

That was his boast. He was Scrooge McDuck! He was capable of anything. There wasn’t a challenge that he couldn’t face or an enemy he couldn’t conquer. The elements, however, had other plans. No sooner had Scrooge stepped outside to start his mission to restore heat to his Money Bin, did the wind pick up. He hadn’t gone more than ten feet before the ice and the wind knocked him down. He fell into a snowbank. Relatively unharmed, Scrooge shook off the cold and continued his climb. By the time he reached the first heater, his fingers were stiff and unruly and his beak had developed icicles.

He opened up the panel and found that Gyro was absolutely right. The nearly fifty year-old heater was on it’s last legs. The intricate tiny pieces of machinery were frozen. What wasn’t frozen was rusted. It was a mess. Gyro was right. He would have to buy new ones.

Until the storm cleared, these old heaters would have to see them through. Regrettably, his gloves were too bulky to work with the tiny pieces. Removing his gloves, the sting of the cold sent shivers through him. It was worse than being burned. Common sense told him to put his glove back on and to return to the safety of the Bin where although it was cold, it wasn’t below 0 conditions. He could have a cup of tea, spend time with the people who made the Money Bin such a functional piece of wonder.

But he couldn’t.

The workers in the Money Bin were his workers. They were his people and his people were freezing. How could he be a good person, a good leader, if his people were freezing? Keeping that thought in mind, Scrooge went to work.

 

Hours later, inside the Money Bin, Gandra Dee was still at work, attempting to keep the feeling in her fingers. Common sense told her to

“Where’s Mr. McDuck?” sniffled Gandra as she took a spot next to Fenton.

“He went to go fix the heaters,” shook Gyro.

“I thought you guys were fixing the heaters?” she asked.

“We tried and failed. The internal engines won’t ignite. It’s too cold. The only other way is to manually reset them,” shivered Fenton.

“That would mean going to each individual heater and restarting them, right?”

“That would be correct,” Fenton nodded.

“YOU TWO LET HIM GO OUTSIDE IN THIS WEATHER TO FIX SEVENTY-FIVE HEATERS?!” she screeched.

“He said he could do it!” defended Gyro.

“Yeah, he’s Scrooge McDuck!”

“He also has no sense of self-preservation, guys!” Gandra fretted. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed frantically. “Hello? Mrs. Beakley? Hi! It’s me, Gandra….yes, we’re doing okay. The heat’s not back on yet and I don’t know when the lights are coming back on either but….yes, I understand mam but the situation has taken a turn for the worse. No, mam, we haven’t reached Donner Party levels. We’re doing okay but…don’t be mad at him but Mr. McDuck went to go fix the heating by himself and – no, no not internally. He’s outside, scaling the walls as we speak mam and…Hello? Mrs. Beakley? Hello?” she turned to her equally freezing friends. “She hung up.”

 

Throughout the history of the world, there have been women who have shaped the future. From Cleopatra with her political brilliance, to Boudicca with her feared armies, to Ada Lovelace who saw the future of programming, these women have forever changed the way that the world now works. But none have faced such tribulation as one Mrs. Bentina Beakley whom out of all, had the greatest challenge: to keep one self-destructive idiot alive. The same idiot who when presented with a challenge was to go out and do it by himself with no back-up, the very same person who ALWAYS took cursed treasure, who couldn’t go outside without making a new enemy, and who when told of the impossible odds to accomplish a goal would shrug his shoulders and say with his usual sense of bravado, “I’m Scrooge McDuck!”

As such, when the storm covered all of Duckburg that morning, Mrs. Beakley’s sixth sense of impending danger was raging. She knew, she simply knew, that something was going to go wrong and that Scrooge would be at the heart of it. She didn’t know how but she knew that he would be in the thick of it. So, before he left for work, she took him aside.

“I want your word that you will not do anything life threatening.”

He rolled his eyes at her worry. “Please, Beakley, it’ll be a quiet day and then we’re having a little party. What could possibly go wrong?”

“You know how I feel about tempting fate.”

“Bah! Fate! I believe in fate like I believe in luck.”

“I’m aware of your stance on luck and fate but I need your word, Scrooge. No matter what happens today, I want to know that you will not do anything life-threatening or Scrooge McDuck like.”

He frowned. “Did you just use my name as a verb?”

“It’s fitting,” she remarked. “Whenever you exclaim that you’re Scrooge McDuck something always happens.”

“Yes and it’s usually in my favor.”

She scowled and gave him The Look. It said everything that she couldn’t with one carefully raised eyebrow and perfectly pursed lips. The message came in loud and clear for Scrooge who raised his hands in defense of his character and said, “I solemnly swear that I will do not one stupid thing for the next twenty-four hours, Bentina. You have my word.”

When he left, she felt somewhat at ease. He was going to the Money Bin and it was one of the safest places in the world. What possible trouble could he possibly get into? Of course, Beakley should have known not to tempt fate. It went against her in the most terrible ways.

Fate, this time, came in the form of one anxious call from Gandra. Needless to say the fury that she felt for Scrooge at breaking his own word was diminished by the fear she felt knowing that somewhere out there was Scrooge. Of all the days to do something stupid, it had to be on the coldest day of the damn year.

It had to be when the roads were closed!

When Launchpad couldn’t get anything to fly at all!

When emergency services of every kind were down!

Mrs. Beakley cursed the weather and Scrooge’s severe lack of common sense. It was a terrible mess but if there was one adage that Mrs. Beakley believed in, it was where there was a will, there was a way. She had the will and if she couldn’t get to the Bin through tradition means then she would have to be unconventional.

Thankfully, she was prepared to be unconventional.

 

At the Money Bin, word had spread through the levels about Scrooge and his mission to restore the heat. What anger and bitterness they held was gone the instant they learned he was outside scaling the walls. They raced to the windows, opened them up, and shouted out his name. There was never an answer. They circled around the Bin in waist deep snow, hoping to see some sight of him. They might as well have been staring into the abyss. There was nothing to see but the swirling snow.

“We’re idiots,” Fenton fretted as he, Gyro, and Gandra searched for their boss on the ice and frigid area.

“Only if he’s dead,” said Gyro. “If he’s alive, then we’re safe.”

“Could you not say that?” asked Gandra. “I don’t want to find him dead or worse!”

“What could be worse than dead?”

Gandra punched Gyro. “Answering to Mrs. Beakley, that’s what’s worse!”

“What’s the worse a housekeeper is going to do?” he asked.

The ground shook violently. The Money Bin workers fell to the ground but those who had seen the danger that Scrooge McDuck often inspired knew what to do: be prepared to fight.

“DEFENSE POSITIONS EVERYONE!” Gandra rallied.

Back to back, Gandra, Gyro, and Fenton were prepared to fight whatever force in the blistering cold. The earth split apart. A massive drill pierced upwards, sending shockwaves rippling through the isolated island. The drill came to rest midway through. The side panel opened with a bang and there stood the most fearsome woman in Duckburg: Mrs. Bentina Beakley.

“Good afternoon all,” she greeted sternly. “Where is he?”

Silently, they pointed upwards.

“He’s dead?” she gasped.

“No!” Fenton shook his head. “We think he’s still up-“

A massive hum filled the air. It was the sound of seventy-five heaters being brought back to life.

“HE DID IT!” the workers cheered.

Beakley’s joy was reserved for when she would see Scrooge again. When he didn’t descend from the heights, she feared the worst.

“Oh damnable hell.” From her coat pocket, she reached for her grappling hook. Before she fired, she gave out a series of commands, “Grab as many blankets as you can, heat up a cup of nutmeg tea, and when I have him, prepare a warm, not a hot, bath. Is that understood?”

“Yes, mam,” they answered like a well trained army.

“Be back in a minute.”

She fired the grappling pierced the sky and disappeared into the raging  storm above. It caught on one of the heaters. Beakley disappeared into the storm. The ice and snow practically burned her but she had to find Scrooge. Her shot brought her halfway up on the Bin. She precariously rested on one of the heaters.

“SCROOGE!” she shouted. “SCROOGE! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

His name was carried on the wind and there wasn’t a response. She peered to the heavens and guessed it was a little unrealistic for her to hope that Scrooge was fine and starting his descendent in a slow and calm fashion. She shook her head. The poor man was probably frozen half to death or stuck to a heater somewhere at the very top. She fired once more and when her grappling hook caught on something sturdy and metal, she pulled herself up.

Through the storm, it was incredibly difficult for her to see anything. White blended with white and consumed everything in it’s wake. There was a tiny break in the storm and it was there that Mrs. Beakley saw a sliver of black and red. She stopped momentarily to gain a better look. Huddled against the last working heater for dear life was Scrooge McDuck. Half-frozen to death, he gazed at Mrs. Beakley with half-lidded eyes and gave a little wave.   

“What on earth were you thinking?!” she scolded.

“…’s cold….heat needed…” he slurred slowly.

“At the risk of giving yourself hypothermia and nearly killing yourself?”

“…they’re mine…mine people, Bea…people needed heat.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“….i know…” he whimpered with a little sob. “…i’ma….cold….”

The beautiful lecture she had prepared died on her lips. She couldn’t scold him when he was on death’s door like so. Once he was better, once he was aware of his surroundings, that was when she would strike but for now, she had to focus on her greatest challenge: keeping him alive.

Mrs. Beakley was never what one would call a cuddler. She gave the rare hug and other physical tokens of affection but never cuddled. It was too easy to stab someone or to be stabbed when they had invaded your personal space so. However, in the case of Scrooge freezing, Mrs. Beakley allowed it. She cuddled against him. He melted against her embrace. Slurred words and Gaelic phrases of gratitude stumbled forward. Some she understood but his speech was so distorted that it all sounded like gibberish to her.

“Give a nod if you need more warmth, two if you feel fine.”

He stiffly nodded once and murmured against her puffy coat. “…I’m…s-s-sorry, Bentina.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” she returned with a light humorous tone. “You’re Scrooge McDuck, remember? You can’t abide by suffering except if it’s your own making.”

“I really did try, honest I did,” he sniffled and coughed. “Called every repairman in the city….even had Gyro n’ Fenton working on it….I did try, Bentina. I did try. I’m sorry.”

“Save your strength and apologize later.”

“Aye…”

 

Wrapped in the warmest, fluffiest, and most festive blanket, Scrooge watched the party. He’d gotten off lucky, of course. A chill ran through him constantly but under Mrs. Beakley’s watchful eye, he was sure to make a recovery. Through some slight begging, he was allowed to see the Christmas Party that he worked so hard to provide for although Mrs. Beakley watched him like a hawk to make sure that he didn’t exert himself.

Soon after the heat was restored, the lights came through and the holiday spirit returned to the Bin. The storm still raged outside but with Mrs. Beakley’s drill parked a few feet away from the Money Bin, not a single person feared of not being able to get home. The Money Bin workers kept the party going long into the night. Each person was sure to thank Scrooge for his daring heroics and inquired that he was indeed doing fine and well.

“See, Beakley,” he couldn’t help but whisper to her. “I did good.”

“You nearly froze to death,” she reminded him.

“What’s life without a little adventure?”

“That would be called death. Scrooge, you know that I’m up for a little chaos and mischief as much as the next person but this was truly reckless.”

“But Beakley I-“

“If things were as grim as you feared, you could have called me. You know that I would be here in a heartbeat.”

“I know but if I didn’t get the-“

“People would think that you’re a horrible employer?” she correctly guessed. “Oh, Scrooge…it’s not true.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re biased.”

“Me? Biased?”

“We have…history together. You know me.”

“Yes and if I recall correctly, I wasn’t completely fond of you when we first met.”

“You’re fond of me now?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course, I am,” she answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Scrooge, who’s night was filled with ice and cold, gave a little whimper and hid his tears well. He hadn’t been prepared for anyone to say something so sincere to him. He didn’t know what to do with this information. All his life, people knew him for one single reason: his money. That was it. He’d done it all, seen the gods and bested them, saved civilizations and been a liberator but when it came down to it, it was always his money that attracted people. It was the reason why people wanted him.

Found a priceless rug? Ask Scrooge McDuck to invest in your expedition.

Need help for your star-up? Ask Scrooge McDuck for a cash infusion.

Even Goldie, wonderfully back-stabbing Goldie, liked him because of his money. She’d stolen from him more time than he could count. It was part of their game. Adventure, treasure, back-stab, and repeat. It was a part of his life. Money brought people to him. Hell, it was part of the reason why he was recruited to work with S.H.U.S.H., well that and the fact he’d beaten them to more than a few priceless treasures but really, they should have known better.

So, for better or worse, they brought him in. Looking back on it now, really looking back on it, it would be fair to say that Bentina Beakley probably hated him. He could have gone with dislike but the disdain of having a partner and a non-S.H.U.S.H. operative to boot made her hate him. And yet, here they were. Decades later, it was her who’d come to grab him from yet another bout of reckless and pulled him from the brink of nearly killing himself.

She didn’t have to.

She didn’t need to.

But she did.

She’d brave the storm, came to his rescue, warmed him up, and was now getting him a second cup of tea. Scrooge thought of his life, of Beakley, and of everything that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours. He came to one startling conclusion: Mrs. Bentina Beakley actually liked him.

Dear God. He never knew she had such poor taste.

But as she returned with his tea and smiled at him, the disbelief melted away. She really did like him. Not for money or any type of monetary wealth that he had but she genuinely liked him.

“Here you are, Scrooge,” she said as she took a seat next to him.

“Thank you, Bentina….Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”


End file.
